


No Mercy

by Dirty_Birdie



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Rape Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:23:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22520143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirty_Birdie/pseuds/Dirty_Birdie
Summary: In Ethan's house you don't get to say no.
Relationships: Ethan Peck/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 6





	No Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> Straight up rape fantasy/kink.

His handsome face was going to turn dark. I knew what his reaction was going to be as soon as I said no. I’ve only tried to refuse him twice, and it hadn’t gone well either time. Tonight wouldn’t be any different, unless I could convince him I just wasn’t in the mood and to leave me be, but I'm not holding out any hope of that happening. 

The first time I told Ethan no he’d laughed it off. When he realized I was serious, he’d simply ignored me, climbed atop me, and fucked me anyway. The second time he’d gripped me by the throat, cutting off my air, and told me he wasn’t in the mood for my bullshit. Then he fucked me anyway. I accepted that it was my duty to lay beneath him and take it, so I did. 

But tonight was Friday. He’d worked a lot of hours this week, broke his back to provide, and he’d want to unwind in his usual way: On me. But the thing is I’d also had a long week and I wanted to simply go to bed and get some rest. So when he came into the bedroom I felt my pulse pick up at the inevitable conflict that was about to happen. 

“Take off your panties and get on your knees,” he said, motioning to the bed. He was still dressed in the clothes he'd worn to set, and from the look on his face it hadn’t been a good day.

“I was thinking that tonight we could just go to bed? I’m tired, Honey. I don’t really feel like it.”

He stopped cold in his tracks, his white tee-shirt dirty from work, and his jeans looking just as battered. His thick black hair was a wild mess, slightly pasted to the sides of his head with sweat from the heat of the day. Normally it was a turn-on when he came home dirty and sweaty and horny. Tonight, not so much. And just like I suspected, his brown eyes began to turn black. Don't misunderstand me. Ethan's a laid back, easygoing man, kind, polite--until you denied him what he wanted. Until you tried to do so in the privacy of his home. 

“Are you fucking serious?”

I look at the bedroom door. Maybe I can make an excuse to leave, like a need to go to the store. But I don’t think he’s going to let me past him.

“I’m just really tired—”

“ _You’re_ tired? From what? Vacuuming? Washing dishes? Laundry? Do you have any idea how hard I bust my balls for us? You think I don’t have days where I don’t want to go to work?”

“Of course you do—”

“We made it clear what our duties were in this relationship from the start,” he continued, talking over me, taking a menacing step toward me. “My responsibility is to go to work and earn a living to keep you comfortable. To make sure you want for nothing. Your job is keeping this house and making sure the bills are paid with my money. You cook, you clean, and you spread your fucking legs when I want some pussy.”

I instinctively step back, my mouth a little dry from anxiety. He’s angry. And while he’s never hit me, I can see it’s a struggle for him not to now. My body flushes with tension. My nipples turn to stiff peaks as I keep an eye on his hands. 

“Take your panties off,” he said, his words slow, as though speaking to an idiot, “and get on your knees.”

“No.”

The word comes out in a whisper, but it’s one he plainly hears.

“I said I’m not in the mood, and I have the right to refuse you," I try, hoping I sound authoritative and strong. "Just because you’re the breadwinner doesn’t mean—”

Before I can even blink his big hand is around my neck. I instinctively grip his hand, trying to pull him away and get some air, but he’s far too strong. His black eyes frighten me. I feel myself tense up, wondering what he’d do next.

“Please,” I try to choke out. “Can’t…breathe…”

He lets go and looks at me with that cold stare, watching the first tears stream from my eyes without a hint of sympathy. 

“Why do you have to make it like this?” he asks, as he turns me until my back is facing him. He picks me up to put me on the bed, but I begin to kick. I know what’s about to happen and the unfairness of it fills me with rage. I can say no. I have the right to refuse and it wasn’t fair that he ignored it.

“Stop, Ethan. I said no!”

“And I said get on your goddamned knees!”

It’s a struggle now. I kick, push with my legs, trying to keep him from maneuvering me onto my knees, but he’s too fucking strong. The next thing I know he’s shoved me forward, grabbed my ankles, and yanked my feet back. I fall ungracefully onto my front and barely avoid smashing my face into the headboard.

“Let go! Get off me!”

His nails scratch my tender skin as he yanks my underwear down. I’m just flailing uselessly now, in a dead panic.

  
“Please, please, don’t!”

I can’t breathe when he puts a knee into the middle of my back to hold me down. I hear him undo his zipper, and in the dresser mirror I can see him pulling his jeans down. He’s rock hard, his erection falling free, thick and veiny. I know the pain that dick can inflict. I know the anguish he can force me to endure, but it’s never been like this.

“Ethan, stop. Please.”

I know it’s pointless. He’s not going to listen to me. I still beg. I still struggle, even as he forces my legs apart. I try to reach back, scratch at him, slap him, but I’m a fly swatting at a giant for all the good it does. There’s no stopping him.

“Why do you insist on doing this? Why can’t you just do your part?” he asks, as I feel him at my entrance. I’m dry. Frightened by the pain I know is coming.

“Why do you wanna make me rape you?”

“You don’t have to do this—”

My words cut off in a cry of pain. He’s pushing forward, forcing me open, making me feel as though I’m being cleaved in half. My hands fist the sheets as I cry uselessly. He’s invading me, pushing deep, and no matter how hard I kick, how loudly I cry, how much I beg, it doesn’t stop him from giving one more hard push, seating himself balls deep into me.

The pain is unimaginable. He thrusts, hard, erratic, and I feel my body respond by moistening. I’m getting wet, and shame fills me as I feel him pushing too deep, too hard, completely without mercy. His teeth bite my shoulder so hard I know there will be bruises. But the worst part? He’s crying. I can hear him as he continues to push into me, pumping his hips fast as my blood slicks his cock.

“It shouldn’t have to be like this,” he whispers.

I’m not sure at what point it started to feel good. Maybe it was his tears, the regret in his deep voice, but everything changes. My cries are no longer merely of pain but of pleasure. Pleasure I don’t want to feel. Pleasure I’m ashamed of. The first orgasm rocks through me, stealing my breath, making my body flutter around his cock and I moan even louder. My hips betray me, bucking off the bed to meet his thrusts as we rut on the bed like wild animals.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, his voice deep in my ear. I’m on the verge again, knowing I’m about to come. “All you had to do was submit.”

He bites me again, harder than the last time, and I cry out, afraid he’ll break skin. The pain he inflicts with his teeth is complimented by the pleasure he forces upon me with his cock. He pushes deep and I finally find release, coming around him in a heated gush that makes me so slick as he pumps into me there’s almost no friction. I’m relieved when he stiffens and cries out, emptying himself into me as I flutter around him once again.

He gets off the bed, leaves me there, legs spread, body aching and bleeding and leaking his cum, my face burning with shame.

“Don’t ever fucking tell me no again,” he says. “In case you haven’t caught on, it doesn’t do any good.”

I roll onto my side, curl my knees up to my chest and cry at the pain in my body, and the shame I feel for the pleasure that overcame me. I should be able to say no. I should have that right. But in Ethan’s house…I don’t.

He strokes my face as he lays beside me. Despite everything I smile. 

"Is that what you wanted, Baby?" he asks, looking at me with hopeful eyes. Raping me is a fantasy I know he doesn't really like fulfilling, but it's one I enjoy deep in my soul. I don't know why, but it's never quite as good as when he's "forcing" me. 

"That's exactly what I wanted," I assure him, kissing him slowly, tenderly, before pulling him close and letting my eyes flutter closed. "Thank you."

He switches off the light and I'm quickly lost to a deep, peaceful sleep in his arms.


End file.
